There's Something About Marie
by Tsuchi
Summary: Wufei meets about Mariemeia at Trieze's gravestone, and there's something about her... SideficPrequel to But Magic Doesn't Exist!, but can be read on it's own.


Disclaimer: Not mine, we know it, or there would have been a hell of a lot more yaoi in the series.

A/N: Okay. The reason for this fic: no one seems to want to pay attention! Wufei joining Mariemeia is a huge thing to the Gundam Pilots, and probably especially to Wufei. But 98 of the fics I've read (and that's being generous) have either: a) brushed over his involvement in the Eve Wars in a post-EW fic, or b) ignore it completely, and make the story an AU! There are two authors I've encountered who actually deal with Wufei in that year between Christmases, and even they marginalize it in the context of the 'larger story'. I understand. For Wufei supporters, EW is a very difficult thing to deal with. It forces you to think about Wufei's character deeper than 'Injustice!' most authors characterize him spouting. So, in an attempt to get rid of the 'Wufei-before-EW' story stigma: I'm writing about his first meeting with Mariemeia Khushrenada.

There's Something About Marie- A 'But Magic Doesn't Exist!' Side Story

Legend:

have a cookie emphasis, ie. Italics

/have a cookie/ thoughts

The grave stone was nothing much to look at. It surprised him: that so little effort would be made to bury the dead. His clan had always had ceremonies to send off the spirits of those departed. As far as he knew, there had been no ceremony. A few quick words, as the body was lowered into the ground, and the visits of close friends and family. A visit from Marquise, perhaps to make sure the bastard was really dead. It was all so surreal.

Wufei tossed the rose on the grave stone, and lowered himself to the ground. He bowed, once, giving the man that had been his enemy that much respect, at least. "It should not have been this way," he muttered in his native tongue. "You should have killed me. I was not meant for this peace."

He'd tried fitting in, tried living among the happy populace. He'd hidden Nataku in the deep snowdrifts of Canada- or what had been Canada until the Peacecraft woman had dissolved the World Borders. She would be safe there. Then he'd traveled to China: the better to hide in.

Every day depressed him. The small town he lived in, had been living with a kind family in, had once had a respectable populace. Somewhere during the nightmare of a year before Christmas, most of the population had gone to fight the war, and no one was entirely sure who had not survived, and who had simply not found their way home yet.

The family he stayed with was a staunch OZ supporter, and it grated on his nerves to hear praises to the organization that had caused his family's deaths- his wife's death- every day. He could, at least, in his effort to fit in, offer up praise to the brilliant leader. That made two great people he'd known: both dead at his hand. "You were amazing."

He hated what he had become: a burden on some family who had taken him in, because he resembled the son they had lost to the attack on the Lake Victoria Training Facility. Lieutenant Noin had come, personally, to offer her condolences. He wished he could do the same.

More than that, he wished he could either get a job, or end it, but the latter would be yet more shame on his family's, his, name, and the former would require a _resume_.

"And what can I put on it?" he murmured into the early morning light. It was far too cheerful; he wished the weather would get a clue, and imitate his emotions better. It might make him feel something other than this horrible nothing. /_Pathetic fallacy/_, his mind supplied, and he privately agreed with the first word: he _was_ pathetic.

"What can I put on it?" he asked again, as if Khushrenada could somehow answer. "Second Year Undergraduate in Philosophy under 'education', I suppose," he mused, and then laughed harshly. "They'd never believe me. I have an IQ matched by no one I've ever met before, and they wouldn't believe me. After all, I'm barely sixteen: I can't have a brain, and if I do, it's in my pants."

"Ex-Gundam Pilot, then?" Wufei lifted his knees to his chest, and wrapped his arms around his legs. "Killer of Trieze Khushrenada?" He shook his head. "I'm sure that will go over well, in light of that town's allegiances."

His stomach grumbled, as if in agreement, and Wufei's mind stumbled over the last few days, wondering when he'd last eaten. The family he was with had said something… what had they said? Something about Maxwell: disparaging, in any case. He'd stormed out, and ignored them when they called for him to come back.

"Perhaps I should go back. They don't _seem_ to care that I didn't work with OZ during the war; in fact, most of the town's been fairly accepting, despite their assumption that I worked with White Fang." He laughed hollowly, reaching out a hand to caress the stone lightly. He hadn't encouraged this rumor, but he knew he looked far too young to work for Romefeller. They'd certainly gone out of their way not to insult Zechs Marquise, and his supporters. On the other hand, the general store owner's son always cast looks at him from the corner of his eyes, and Wufei was fairly certain he recognized him from the Moon Base. That was bad.

"I probably shouldn't go back. It's not like I have anything of value there, and I suspect I've overstayed my welcome." He'd taken his sword with him. Then there was the small matter of the effect constant adrenaline had on his system. He was living in a town of his enemies. He shook his head.

"I suppose I shouldn't think of them as my enemies, anymore. The war's over. _Peace_," he said the word harshly, sarcastically, "reigns supreme. The Peacecraft woman has finally gotten her man, I suppose," not that he'd been looking: it hurt too much, "and everyone lives happily ever after." Everyone except his family, his clan, his wife… him.

"They don't understand," he murmured again. "They _are_ my enemies. OZ is enemies with Romefeller, Romefeller is enemies with White Fang, White Fang is enemies with OZ. And the rebels and Gundams are enemies with everyone." He smiled, but harshly, bitterly. His family had died for him, died for the enemy. They'd never declared him an enemy, of course: how do you declare the scion of your clan an enemy? The people would never stand for it.

But he was still an enemy. An ally would not be the direct cause of his entire family's destruction. An ally would sacrifice the few for the many, hand himself over to the enemy, escape, get his Gundam back, and continue on, but without his family's support. An ally would have saved L5.

It followed, therefore, that he was his own family's enemies. That hurt to think about, so he changed the direction of his thoughts.

He thought about his battle with Khushrenada: his loss, his shame, and the night he spent at the circus with Barton.

Barton… there was something about the European that had stirred an unrecognizable fire within him. Now, of course, he knew what it had been: lust, and longing in equal parts. Barton had… found something. With Winner, he would later learn, and it showed. Knowing what he did now, he doubted that Barton even knew it at the time, but that hadn't made a difference.

He had found something, and all he needed to do was realize it, and Winner would be his. On some level, Wufei had seen that, and wanted it for himself. For a time, he'd thought he was in love with Barton.

He knew now that it didn't matter. Even if he _was_ in love with the man, Barton didn't return his feelings, and Wufei knew it. Barton was… happy. He was probably living with Winner, now. Wufei, of course, was not an idiot, or a bigot, despite the whisperings of those on his destroyed colony. He spurned weakness, and giving in to base desires when the ancestors knew you and your 'beloved' were bound to break up and you were further fated to be forced into an arranged marriage certainly qualified as that. It did not mean that he was homophobic or misogynistic, or any of the other hurtful things they'd called him.

Far from it: Barton had stirred more than his interest as no one other than Meiran had. Except for the boarding house, but he refused to think about that. It had been awkward, and frightening, and he'd been far too young to know what the signals his body was telling him meant.

But he wasn't going to think about that. He was hardly traumatized, and it had been strange: returning to find himself attracted to a woman. He'd wondered at it for days after their marriage, and marriage night. And the blood… the blood had been disturbing. He'd known it was possible to bleed after intercourse, obviously… but he had expected there to be less, if she even bled at all. He had been made to believe that women were 'self lubricating'. He sneered at the term.

"Even then," he whispered, "I knew it wouldn't last." He'd warred against the feeling, of course. He'd married her, and it would be dishonorable to do anything other than stay with her the rest of his life. Even if she despised him. Even if she would never be a proper wife, he would stay with her because she had broken his self imposed solitude. She'd forced her way through; if only to criticize and deflate what he would later discover to be a vastly inflated ego.

It hadn't worked. "Last year seems so far away," his eyes fixed on an unimportant snowflake, left by the cold weather. He should probably stand. The other option was to let himself freeze to death: it would be a hilariously ironic end for a 'great Gundam pilot'. Perhaps he could atone in another life, since there would be nothing resembling forgiveness in this one.

He wished there was. He wished he could be like Maxwell, so free with his thoughts, and emotions, and forgiveness. Oh, how he wished he could find that last. But there was none, his scholar's mind told him. No forgiveness, only endurance. "Only endurance," he repeated out loud. "There is only endurance."

He would endure this peace, for as long as it lasted. One day it would fail, because all people, even he, were essentially weak. "This peace will not last."

"I'm glad you feel that way." The smooth, sly voice was entirely unfamiliar, and Wufei jerked to his feet, face flushed with the shame of having been caught both talking to himself, and off guard. He was confronted with an old man, and a young girl.

The old man wore well fitting, fine clothes and a cap that imitated the ones Winner's Manguanacs wore. The girl was dressed in an equally well fitting red blouse, and ankle length black skirt, and looked about seven. Wufei was keenly aware of his own appearance: bedraggled hair, clothes made for someone just the slightest bit taller and wider than him, and not washed since he had last eaten, if then.

Wufei suspected that if he were to look in a mirror, he would find no trace of the man he had once been.

The man raised placating hands, an innocent gesture that Wufei's eyes narrowed at, automatically assessing the danger posed. He concluded that it wasn't much. "I have heard that you are the one of the only pilots not to publicly support the peace, Chang Wufei," Wufei's eyes widened at the use of his name, in its correct order, with perfect pronunciation, "and I am here to see your position on it."

Wufei straightened in his attempt to show his dignity- what little he had left- despite his appearance. "The peace was brought about by the soldiers. The soldiers have now been rendered useless, and play this peace like children playing house. At night, they return to whom they were, in dreams and nightmares, and I am hardly exempt." He tossed a glance at the grave, and the reflection of his face in their eyes was one of sorrow. "My enemies were not who they seemed: I had thought them evil; but I can see they were not. I thought them dishonorable; he taught me otherwise. I am not," he hesitated, "entirely certain where my path lies."

"Then allow me to introduce myself," the man said. "I am Dekim Barton."

Wufei's eyes flickered up. "Barton?" he asked, frowning. The man looked nothing like Bar- Trowa. Calling the boy he had spent the night with, imposed his presence on, 'Barton' seemed wrong. There was no family resemblance.

"Yes. My son was Trowa Barton, before he was murdered, and another took his place in Operation Meteor."

Wufei nodded slowly.

"And allow me to introduce my granddaughter: Mariemeia."

Wufei's flickered over her. There was something… familiar. Around the eyes, he thought. Yes, there was something familiar about her eyes.

He nodded his head again, in greeting this time. Then he frowned as a possibility occurred to him. "This is your son's daughter?" he asked. Had B- Trowa orphaned a child? And why would he have killed the man anyway? It couldn't have been in battle, Trowa had been the pilot since the beginning of Operation Meteor.

"My daughter's daughter," the man corrected, and Wufei breathed a sigh of relief. "She died in childbirth."

Then none of them had orphaned the girl, thank the ancestors. If they had… he'd have to track them down, show them what they did: it was only justice.

"I thought you might be interested to know," the man continued, "who her father was. I'm in the process of having it confirmed, but I have no doubt; there were only two men in Leia's life around the time of conception, and I am one of them."

Wufei shrugged. What did he care? He had no association with Bartons; his clan rarely associated with anyone outside L5, and most, if not all of those associations had been with relatives.

The girl spoke for the first time. She curtsied gently, and then straightened with a smile that was more of a smirk than a show of happiness. "My name is Mariemeia Khushrenada. I am the daughter of Trieze Khushrenada. I am very pleased to meet you." The words had the sound of being spoken by rote, holding no special meaning for the child, but for him…

To use one of Maxwell's terms: he was floored. He wouldn't need the confirmation, either: it was in her eyes. She had her father's eyes… and his smirk. It seemed so strange to see it coming from one shorter, weaker, and younger than him.

_/Oh Gods/…_the thought slipped from his mind, even as he fell to his knees. /_Oh gods… _I_ orphaned her_._ Not Barton…/_

"I thought she might like to see the place where her father was buried," Barton was saying. "Imagine my surprise to- what are you doing?"

Wufei had risen to his feet, and fetched his sword where it lay, sheathed. That state only lasted about half a second when he got his hand on the hilt. Holding the sword, he tested its weight, and looked back to the child. Her eyes were wide with what could have been fear, but she did not hold onto her grandfather in any way: a sharp reminder of her parentage.

He approached the pair, eyes fixed on the redheaded girl, intent on his path. He ignored the gun Barton drew.

A respectful distance away, he stopped, and knelt. He flipped the sword in his hands, and presented it, hilt first, to Mariemeia. "I killed your father," he bowed his head at the admission, "my life is yours to do with as you please."

Through his lashes, he snuck a glance up, wondering if these were his last moments. He had never expected to reach nirvana1 in this life anyway2. Still, after being a scholar being reborn as a laborer would be fairly stressful. Of course, he had already taken the mantle of warrior, and he felt no different.

"I do not believe there is any need for that," Barton began, and Wufei's gaze rose to him, and then turned to Mariemeia. She was… examining was the best word, and Wufei knew where he had felt that gaze on him before. She truly was her father's daughter- he could imagine her weighing her options in her mind.

But she surprised him: she half turned, and cast a look up at Barton. /_Of course,_ he admonished in his thoughts,_ /she is young, and knows it. Of course she would turn to one older and wiser than she when decisions are to be made/_. It was how his colony had been run. The elders ruled for as long as they lived, and were succeeded by the next eldest.

Still, it disturbed him to see her turn to others for council, after knowing her father; or at least knowing him as an enemy. Khushrenada had never asked for council.

"No," she said, and her face broke out into a beatific smile. "I don't think there is a need for that." She took the sword, face contracting as she found it to be quite heavy, and shoved it into the ground. "Grandfather," she looked up at him with pleading eyes, "Can he be my trusted lieutenant?"

Wufei's eyebrows drew together. He stared at the girl, and while Barton seemed to consider the idea, Mariemeia explained. "I'm going to take my rightful place as ruler of the world, you see," she said, "and I will give jobs to all those soldiers who have been abandoned by the new Earth Sphere. The soldiers will keep the peace after I remake it. Grandfather said so."

_/Jobs to the soldiers…/_ it sounded so… simple, coming from a child's mouth. That was the problem, then, wasn't it? The Earth and the Colonies had achieved peace, yes, but at what expense? The soldiers. Lives had been ruined, and no one cared, because they were _soldiers_.

That was why peace would never last: no one had dealt with the soldiers. And that he knew, because no one had dealt with him, aside from the trumped up 'crimes against humanity' charges he and the others had faced after the final battle. It was a stupid proposition: they weren't terrorists3, they were freedom fighters. They had committed no crimes in doing what they did, and even the half-assed attempt at defending them had made that perfectly clear.

But no one had really dealt with them. As far as he knew, Quatre had gone back to his family, Trowa had disappeared (probably with Winner; _that_ would never reach the news though; L4 was almost as bad as L5 had been), and Hiiro and Duo had taken up… something. He hadn't heard anything from them past the announcement on the steps of the courthouse that Duo was 'sticking with Hii-chan no matter what the antisocial asshole thinks'. The media had loved it. Wufei had despised the way Hiiro glared.

They would deal with the soldiery. And really, it would be such a fitting end to his story. His eyebrow twitched. That sounded so fatalistic, even to him. He was by no means searching for death, though he would probably find it sooner or later (sooner being the far more likely of the two). And it was a fitting end: he would not fall so perfectly into Khushrenada's machinations this time around. If Trieze desired peace, he could always make war, and get his revenge that way.

"I'll do it." The words were out of his mouth almost before he realized he needed think no further.

Barton stared at him, before a smile broke out over his face. It was a cruel smile, and one Wufei despised instantly: perhaps this wasn't the best decision, after all. He'd given his word, though, and he'd be damned if he went back on it. He glanced at Mariemeia, and the smile she gave him was well worth it.

He would become not just her trusted assistant but a good friend. He suspected she needed one.

"You so easily make decisions?" Barton was suspicious, justifiably so. Wufei doubted any of the others would join him. Winner was too soft hearted for such a venture, would never chance civilian lives, even when the futures of ex-soldiers, himself in a sense, were on the line. Trowa would never step out of line so long as he and Winner were together. Duo… had stated his intentions clearly enough, and with the scientists gone, there was no one to order Yui to follow this opportunity.

"So long as you deal with the soldiery, as you say you will, I will fight for you. This peace has left all we who fought, abandoned us to make our own way in a world that has no intention of understanding. Others may accept this, but I will not let an injustice like this pass unhindered." He met Barton's eyes, and the man's gaze measured him.

He strengthened his resolve, chewing away at the doubt (when had he ever really been without doubt? The trick was to ignore it) from inside with phrases that popped into his head. /_Khushrenada must be proved wrong. This was _his_ dream, not mine/_, and /_This is what Nataku would have done. She would have never accepted the state of things. She would fight against this unnatural peace, and bring justice to those society abandoned. Therefore, I will do this in her stead./_

Barton seemed satisfied with what he saw, and nodded sharply. "Where are you staying?"

"At the moment? Nowhere permanent. The host family I was staying with proved to be…" his gaze flickered to Mariemeia and the words 'too supportive of OZ and Khushrenada_'_ died on his lips, "unsatisfactory. I've been living in a motel for the last few days."

"We are staying at one of Trieze's old townhouses, in the city. Would you care to join us? I'm sure your expertise in battle planning could be quite useful in achieving our goal."

Wufei nodded. He joined them as they walked away, Mariemeia showing off her independence by holding no one's hand and keeping up just as well.

"I understand you were a scholar, boy…" Wufei followed the conversation Barton struck up well enough, walking into his future.

Owari!

A/N: raises champion flag, drinks liter of water, and wipes brow Whew! Done! That took a lot more out of me than I thought it would. Wufei angst is kinda hard to write when everyone knows how things end up: I can't change my mind halfway through… anyway! For those you also reading my GW/HP crossover, 'But Magic Doesn't Exist!', you'll be happy to know I'm almost done chapter 8, and will probably post it soon. Unfortunately, I can't make any promises, as this is a very work-heavy time of the year, in terms of university work, and I do not have a lot of time to type! So, please forgive me for not being more capable, but I'm doing the best I can!

1 The Buddhist concept of Heaven, essentially. When a Buddhist achieves Nirvana, he/she ceases to be reincarnated.

2 'Basically, the Buddhist caste system dictates that all humans are divided into four castes, or subdivisions. These are: priestsscholars in some versions, warriors, traders and laborers. Social contact between each caste was minimal, and the lower one's position in the system the less opportunities, the less freedom and the less rights one had. Outside the caste system were the outcasts. These were people that were considered so impure that they hardly counted as humans.' (Giebink, Dusty, 'Constructive Criticism, a Solution to the Glass Ceiling Problem: http/ It's not entirely unlikely Wufei would follow the caste system, as L5 is considered extremely traditional, and you don't get much more traditional than this. What this article does not cover is the use of Karma. It's sort of like a point system, where there are good points and bad ones. An excess of bad points when you die will result in rebirth in a lower form of life, warrior to trader, etc. An excess of good will result in moving up, such as from Untouchable to labourer. The only way to achieve good points was to follow your role in the caste system. Therefore, by being a warrior when he was born a scholar amassed a lot of bad Karma for him, and (he believes) will result in him being reborn a labourer.

3 The definition of a terrorist is (predictably enough): one who engages in an act or acts of terrorism. While terrorism has no official definition, there are three main requirements: the act must be undeclared beforehand, the act must be performed by a paramilitary organization, and the act must target civilians. The first is undoubtedly true (in the case of the Gundam pilots), the second debatably so, and the third untrue altogether.


End file.
